#just a one shot probably

[pageslearntothink]

lol not me daydreaming a rockstar!daryl au and it’s literally just the plot of Disney’s Starstruck.

[gutsby]

Bigger in Texas

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: Joel won’t fit.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v. Size kink (seriously, don’t read if you hate big dicks / disgusting descriptions) Penis and pussy pronouns. Virginity loss. Age gap. Praise kink. Daddy kink. Joel ‘hung like a fucking horse’ Miller is a soft dom and also a good teacher. Competence kink (?)

Note: Somebody made a fic challenge to use penis pronouns, and I can’t for the life of me remember who it was. If y’all find them please show them this and tell them I love their brain 🫠

Update: @sp00kymulderr you’re a legend for this. Dick pronouns are engrained in my brain, and I’m forever grateful.

Word count: 2.3k

This wasn’t the life Joel Miller had pictured for himself.

The dead coming back to roam the world and eradicate most of its population, for one. The cold. Finding his baby brother way out here in Wyoming with a wife and a child on the way. The looks he was getting these days. It’s not like he’d asked to get mixed up with a girl your age. It just happened. And since damn near every-fucking-thing that had “happened” to him since outbreak day fifteen years back had been bottom of the barrel, full-blown nightmare territory, the second he saw a good thing fumble across his path, he’d seized it—you.

You, who were young enough to be his daughter.

You, who’d never seen a man fully before meeting him.

You, who hadn’t squeezed so much as a finger in herself.

But much like his past, Joel Miller was a sordid and sick kind of man, and he had the cock to prove it: presently weeping precum at the site of your softest, tightest hole, smearing the pearly-white slick through your folds with a sound so sweet it was nauseating. Begging for entrance.

“Oughta have a boy your age pop your cherry, kid.”

It was simple.

“Ain’t right havin’ a man my age all in your guts.”

And true.

The head of his cock made another wet, sickening noise through your folds, and as though instigated by the sound, your eyes flitted to the source. You smiled.

“Probably. But I want you,” you answered. Soft.

Joel got harder, and he hadn’t thought that was possible. His gaze joined yours, and the sight nearly finished him.

Beneath him, your legs had spread wider, showcasing that perfectly glistening seam alongside the head of his cock. He looked huge. Or you looked small. Or perhaps it was both, and he was old, and he really shouldn’t be doing this at all, but then his hips stuttered a bit and his length pushed in. Joel hissed and seized the headboard.

It wouldn’t even go in. The tip just stretched the rim.

“Baby, fuck—” Joel whimpered.

“He’s so big.”

Three little words from your lips, and it almost did him in.

Again.

You wriggled your hips and flashed another happy grin.

“He wants in, daddy. I can feel him pulsin’ like I am.”

You volleyed a look up to Joel as if to say, ‘So that means we’re ready, right? Will you let me have him?’

And, strangled by guilt as he was, Joel couldn’t resist.

He let his big, bulbous, leaking head sink in the tiniest bit, and he let out a groan. Your walls were so tight. This was him, too—his tip was oversized, just like the rest of him—and when it notched in an inch, Joel could see the pain flash quick in your eyes. His hips moved to retreat.

But then your heels were lifting and digging in his ass, and though strained, your voice made it out, weakly:

“Don’t, daddy. I want him.”

Joel couldn’t dream of refusing.

And his vision blurred more at that word, him.

“I-I know. He wants you too, baby—”

Another quarter-inch.

“—so, so bad.”

“Daddy!”

Joel had to blink to try and wake from his daze. His tip was so warm, hugged so perfect and snug and wet, that he didn’t even realize that was all that fit. He was stuck.

You whimpered again.

“‘S’too big, daddy. Just make him go in.”

Your eyes rolled with indignation and overwhelming pleasure alike, and your hips squirmed again. This time, you tried to nudge him in deeper, but your body simply wouldn’t budge; you’d reached the widest part of him.

“Honey, it’s—”

“Hurtin’! I need you inside me.” you cried, impatient.

“Just takes a little time to get there, darlin’—”

“Well, get to it, then. A tip ain’t enough.”

Joel’s face flushed. He might’ve been forced to bite back a laugh under any other circumstances, but this was your virginity. His bed. Your naked bodies, together, tonight.

He wasn’t about to rush it now and fuck everything up.

“This tip’s about to paint your pretty insides white and make you wait til next week to try again if you keep it up.”

That made you go still.

You shook your head while Joel released the headboard from his grip and took your hip in it instead. He grunted.

“Sweet pea, you gotta see—” he resumed, voice low, “—it won’t feel good for you or me if I just…push right in.”

You sighed, feeling his hold tighten.

“Tongue and fingers only do so much. You gotta learn.”

You whined, digging your feet in deeper when his tip drew back to your entrance. Looking a bit squeamish.

“Be brave…and patient for me.”

From the look in your eyes, Joel could tell you probably hated him right now. That was just fine. He adjusted his hips to a more comfortable place, and then he pinched your hip bone. He nudged you back, and he let you wait.

Then, right when you opened your mouth, he sank in.

Joel thrusted with only his tip, the size of a small lime, and he fucked your hole gently. Back and forth. Shallow.

It did enough. You squeezed both his forearms.

“Oh, daddy.” Your bottom lip trembled as you said it.

With his free hand, Joel smoothed your hair back.

“Yeah, what is it, baby?” he murmured, dulcet as ever, “Thought you said the tip ain’t enough for you, sugar.”

His words came slow. His strokes were delivered quick, though tenderly. Your brain appeared to be in a fog, or a trance, as your chin dipped down toward your chest, and you watched him breach the first inch of you repeatedly.

“Curious little thing.” Joel couldn’t fight the chuckle now.

“He’s so…” you trailed off.

You squeezed his arms, and he squeezed your hip back. He let you watch him fuck you with only his tip, and when your head began to tilt back from the strain, he reached up with his other hand and held the back of your neck. He felt you clench at that, and you both groaned.

“So…big,” you finished, eyes glazed.

“I know.”

This went on for the longest time: Joel stretching the first precious inch of your pussy with the head of himself, you watching and breathing deeply, whimpering occasionally, and him holding at the nape of your neck like a softer touch might lose you to him forever. Was this teaching? When you clenched again, he reckoned it was.

“That’s it, honey. Watch her swallow me.”

“Stretches real pretty for the tip, doesn’t she?”

“Bet she can’t even fit another inch of this cock.”

Suddenly, your head was jerking up under his hold.

Eyes flaring with a hot, juvenile kind of anger: “I can!”

Joel clicked his tongue against the backs of his teeth and pretended not to hear. He also had to feign indifference when your walls tightened and all but choked his head and a wave of new pleasure surged up through his body.

“She can, Joel, I’m serious!”

Another two seconds of this and Joel sensed he might see tears. Though his gaze had trailed up to yours, and the look in his appeared stern, deep down, he was just as quick to want to cave. He just hid it better than you did.

“You think so, sweet pea?”

“I know so. I need it.”

“Need him?”

“Y-Yes.”

How sweet you seemed. How naive you must be.

Joel might’ve been mean, but he wasn’t cruel. He also liked teaching lessons as much as he enjoyed showing you the way, so in the next second, he obliged. He took the last shallow thrust of his tip and sank into your cunt.

As he filled you, you whined. It only took an inch or two.

“Da-a-ddy. Please.”

You must’ve been begging for lenience. Joel retreated.

Then, much to the man’s surprise, you kicked your feet. Not in relief but in protest, shaking your head up at him:

“Put him back. Please. D-Deeper.”

It was as though Joel’s brain had exited through the back of his head and all rational thought escaped him, for the moment. The only voice he heard was yours. It was pleading. And in between your legs, you were soaked.

So drenched to allow him another inch. Then another. Then another. Joel fucked in gently and felt a seismic wave of pleasure seize his limbs—and likely yours, as well. It was as though in two blinks, you’d forgotten the pain altogether. You were suffused with need instead, eyes wincing and lips curling and sounds leaving your throat like an animal in heat. Want him deeper, please.

Joel sawed back and forth with just those five or so inches and made you writhe underneath him. Felt you clamp down on his thick, slippery cock and heard the remnants of your shared arousal making sounds as your body accepted him. Stretching wider. Getting wetter. Bringing him closer to the edge with every breath.

“She’s doin’…so good f’me,” Joel told you, brainless.

His thumb drifted to your clit. He rubbed it gently. No sooner had he finished the first circle around that nub when your hips were stirring again—this time incensed.

“Daddy.”

“I know, baby. I know.”

Joel kissed the top of your head, thumb insistent. When his eyes met yours, he was surprised to find them wet this time. Tears pooling and streaking down to your temples while your body bounced gently beneath his thrusts. A whimper trembled out, and Joel slowed.

He could tell from that look you didn’t want him to stop, though. It just felt so good. So, instead of dropping his pace too much, Joel cupped your chin in one hand, and with the other, he kept thumbing at your clit. Humming.

“Poor thing’s never had something this big in ‘er, huh?”

You shook your head. Cried a little more.

Joel kissed the tears on one side, lips smiling as he did.

“I can tell, baby. But she’s taking it so well.”

“Y-Yeah?”

His hips sped up a little. The thrusts were still shallower than they normally would be, given your state, but they seemed to be working well enough. You winced again.

Joel kissed the other side of your face to take more tears.

“Uh-huh,” he answered, “Openin’ up real nice for daddy.”

It was like his words worked as well as his thumb on your clit. You whimpered again, lips parting a little wider now, and the sound that came out was as desperate and feverish and fuck-drunk as Joel had ever heard it.

“S-Say it again,” you pleaded.

“Say what?”

“That he’s…stretchin’ me open. Makin’ me his.”

The soft, slick resonance between your body and his seemed to amplify even more—you were getting wetter, and Joel’s thrusts all but shook the bed with their force.

His eyes darkened when he felt you tighten again.

“Yeah? You like hearin’ all the filthy fuckin’ things your daddy’s doing? The way he’s breakin’ you in for him?”

You nodded. Your throat constricted with a moan.

And, just when a fresh set of tears seemed to be close on the horizon, Joel lowered himself to you. He held you to his chest, hips working relentlessly, and he watched your face screw up in pleasure. A trace of pain surfaced again, but it was soothed with a kiss. Joel grinned against you.

Between your thighs, his cock was throbbing with a feeling just as big. He knew he couldn’t keep this up much longer. Hurting and aching and needing as you were, he had to make sure that you would cum first.

When his cock grazed a fleshy, sensitive patch inside your walls, he knew it wouldn’t take much. He went on:

“C’mon, sugar. Daddy’s split you open on his cock so nice, least you can do is cum for him. Can you do that?”

His nose brushed yours. His thrusts sped up. You nodded, quickly, and when he shifted in the bed with his thumb still on your clit and his lips and his stubble grazing your mouth with every push of himself, he felt it.

It was a small pulse, at first.

Joel thought you might be adjusting—clenching—again, when the lips that were trembling against his own parted more. Your arms wound around his neck, and suddenly the throb of your walls around his member got tighter and tighter and tighter. One more second and your cunt might’ve squeezed the hot, sticky seed right out of his body and flooded your insides with it, but then came release. The ‘o’ of your mouth let out a shriek, at last, and your body went soft around him, beneath him, whining in turn, ‘Daddy, daddy, please’ while the muscles once taut and unflinching gave him reprieve. Fluttering repeatedly.

Joel fucked you through it. He talked you through it.

He stroked your hair, and he held you tight. Called you his sweetheart, pretty thing, perfect girl, you’re doin’ so good f’me. Keep going. That’s right, cum all over daddy. He told you to take what you needed, and without another word, he felt just that. Your cunt spasmed around him, and you consumed every inch he gave and drank every drop of spend shooting out in thick spurts.

You fell boneless on the bed when all was said and done.

You looked happy, and that made Joel even happier.

He stroked your cheek, and you leaned into it, clearly drained while your gaze held his in a weak sort of look.

It was soft. Loving, even. It could’ve been romantic.

Then Joel’s hand slipped down to the nape of your neck again. Your muscles were limp, like all the rest of you, but somehow, he was able to hold you up. Tilt your chin a bit.

Make you peer down between your shaking legs, where his cock was still sheathed inside you—partly, anyway.

Your eyes widened. Joel grinned.

“You did great, baby. Ready for the other half of him?”

can y’all believe this image is what inspired this fic HA

it’s only Thursday i’m sorry 😔

[outer-andromeda]

Usually I try to better clean up and color these... But I REALLY wanted to share 'em as soon as possible cuz I really like how they look already, sue me :')))

Some story time under the cut for those of you who want context >:000

((EDIT - Small TWs for some negative talk and mentions of grief. Also spoilers for the ending on Chapter 4 :00)

As mentioned in a previous post, Gabby and Doey's relationship is... Very strained after the events of the fourth chapter.

Doey joined the group (Gabby, Kissy and Ava) eventually while they were venturing as subtly as possible to avoid running into Huggy. It was a surprise, obviously - they all thought he was six feet underground since the aftermath of him crashing down. They were all relieved to know he was still alive, but something was different. He wasn't as jovial as his usual self was... He was just... Off. Quiet. Monotone.

(Which is understandable since the guy is literally GRIEVING the loss of the kids of the Safe Haven y'know- and he feels immense guilt for what happened)

At some point, they get separated - Kissy and Ava stick together, while Doey and Gabby venture on their own way, both groups hoping to join each other again eventually. Doey and Gabby still have that quiet dynamic going on, because the human guy doesn't want to make things any worse than they already are. So he tries to be the cheerful one. For both his and Doey's sakes. He tries as hard as he can. But it falls flat. And Gabby, despite himself, grows more and more irritated by Doey's unusual calmness. Something's obviously going on and he won't say anything about it.

Something happens that puts them in a dangerous situation, and everything spills out. Gabby wants to talk, he wants answers. Doey is trying to ignore it, but he's being pushed. And suddenly his anger blooms back out. And he lashes out on Gabby. Shouts all the words he hadn't gotten out. How he was never any good for the kids. How he could've done so much more. How if it wasn't for him, "they'd still be breathing and standing right now". How Gabby can't understand. And Gabby... Takes it. He stands there, listening to every single thing he says. Silently.

He's not afraid. And Doey notices. It's unnerving. It catches him completely off guard. It's like something is starting to break inside of him. Something he's not sure he wants to let shatter much more...

And then Gabby hugs him. And the thing in Doey's core is completely obliterated. And the tears are finally, finally let loose. And his shoulders finally relax to wrap themselves around the short man.

They talk after some VERY good comforting words from Gabby. They find Kissy and Ava after some searching, and they're back on track.

And from then on, their relationship changes back slowly to the small friendship they had formed in the past, plus more. They both understand and trust each other, and Doey feels relief from having someone he can confide in and let himself relax with. And just... Be a kid. Even if just for a bit. All three kids need that so badly, and Gabby tries his best to give that to them. To Doey. Because he, out of anyone, deserves a break the most.

[just-null]

wrestling to be the first to greet you (they broke into your house)

[vilintciay]

" Ohh mmfp- FUCK..! Waka- TOSHI!.. Ahgg- God-."

Your eyes rolled back to the back of your skull, drool seeping out from the corner of your mouth. Above you was Ushijima Wakatoshi, ruthlessly pounding into you from behind, keeping both your arms pinned behind your back with a grip of a single hand as he pressed you further and further into the mattress from how hard he was fucking you stupid.

Your head laid turned to the side, cheek pressed up on cushion below as you gazed up at him with your ass in the air, stood and displayed all for him to bury his thick cock balls deep inside your tight, sloppy wet cunt.

"Ahhg- mnpff- mm- yeah! Ohh fuuckk! Yes, yes, right there!"

You mewled and cried out with pleasure, moaning and whining under him while his expression stood the same. A stoic and blank face with dark and lust filled eyes taking up each bounce and jiggle of your tits, ass, and thighs whenever he'd pull out his thick cock out of your tight cunt, plunging back in hard and rough. Grunting only occasionally.

You were out of it. So fucking out of it that you didn't even notice the sound of your apartment's door opening, light shuffling coming from the living room as someone called out a greeting. But it didn't reach you. Too fucked up and cock drunk that you could only focus on the way his hand would lift in the air to land a harsh and almost skin-tearing smack on your ass, squealing with delight as pain mixed with pleasure, stomach twisting tighter and tighter.

Your orgasm was building up fast, so fast you could barely catch up with your own breathing, slowly coming undone beneath him as you writhe, screaming out his name so loud you weren't surprised if you'd get at least 10 noise complaints from your neighbors. Oh wait.. that's right. This wasn't your house.

With a full body shudder, you felt the knot in your stomach completely burst, squeezing down hard on his pulsing cock as you squirted all over him and the bed below before slumping over and panting. What was I thinking of again?

Oh right, this wasn't my house. This... Wasn't my house?

... Oh. Right. It was his house. But only I didn't live here anymore.

It was only then you'd snap out of your daze, the door to the bedroom opening, your head snapping to look over at the door way. There stood a familiar woman, looking dumbfounded.

"Babe..?"

You were now his ex-girlfriend after all.

[shivgirly]

PSYCH | 1x01 Pilot

[nerdy-hyperfixations]

My mom (and my sister) said that both baby Stan and Ford are adorable but Ford is cuter and she likes him better and I think my heart is shattered.

This post is dedicated to my favorite kid Stanley panels:

My mom didn’t even like him when I showed the one where he murders those two kids 😭😭😭 that’s the best part!!!

[pureanonofficial]

Marcia, you just wait and see…I'll be the power behind the president…and you'll be the power behind me.

PATRICIA NEAL & ANDY GRIFFITH | A Face in the Crowd (1957)

[moeblob]

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Dungeon Meshi: The RPG

[larcenywrites]

how do creed/logan act if they find out their partner is expecting?

Tbh I think they would know even before their partner 😅 super senses and all, yk? So I went with that angle! It’s nothing special, but I could always do something more fleshed out for each one later on. Maybe like how I did my Tony Stark family stuff 🤔

Reactions to Pregnancy

Logan Howlett x Reader

Victor Creed x Reader

Warnings: pregnancy mentions obviously | like two sexual references but they’re more on the mild side

Logan

Terrified. He probably picks up on it before even you, or, at least, before you tell him, but tbh he might be the one to tell you 😅 that nose never lies, but pregnancy probably still doesn’t really cross his mind at first… it’s when he suddenly hears an extra heartbeat nearby, and a rapid one at that, that he actually has to connect the dots. And yet, he still won’t bring it up! He’s nervous, a little more tense than usual, but for now he’s probably choosing to, ah… not ignore it per se? Maybe he’s trying to come to terms with it himself before you find out… by ignoring it!

But he can’t ignore it anyway because now when hears you trying to sneak up on him from behind, it’s not just you anymore. It’s quite literally following him around and keeping him up at night, and maybe hearing a quick pulse naturally puts him on edge anyway. He’s probably damn near falling apart! Is he terrified? Yes. Anxious? Yes. Low key wondering how he could let this happen?? Kinda! But then again, he is the one who ditches the condom like once a month in favor of his little kink… He was already beating himself up a little about being a terrible choice for a father, but now he’s really cursing himself because he of all people should know actions have consequences!!!

Not to mention: What if he passes on his mutation?? Shit, there might be yet another genetically perfect killer on the loose soon!

With a sigh, he finds himself tapping a finger or two on your lower tummy in thought. He knows that, regardless, he’s doing everything he can to keep you- both of you- safe. And all this stress ain’t for nothing— in fact, it’s already made him a little attached to that unnamed heartbeat!

You’re probably not gonna notice too much difference in his usual behavior other than he seems more tense and unfocused lately. He always tends to be the big spoon, he usually ends a day with rubs and nuzzles, he’s always tuned in to what you’re doing— what will be different though is him being more reluctant to leave for missions (probably a little huffy about it even), and a whole lot more cuddlier than usual the night before! And in the case that you’re a fellow x-men, it’s not out of the ordinary for him to keep an eye on you, but it is definitely weird for him to challenge the set plan just to stay by your side, and the pot is finally boiling over when he starts telling you that you can’t come on missions altogether… which probably leads to everybody arguing! Hell, you may still not even know you’re pregnant at this point, but Logan has to say it because otherwise he’s really looking like the bad guy here!

Minus the fifty questions you probably have for him, he is relieved that this whole pregnancy thing isn’t just on his shoulders now. But now that you do know, he’s definitely relieved that he can be a little more affectionate without being questioned! At some point he definitely ended up nuzzling under your shirt and has decided to just lie there for probably the rest of the evening with his very tiny baby 🥰

And come on, Logan loves the students! Even if it is in his own grumpy way! He really shouldn’t be so worried about being dad material 😘

Victor

Again, he probably picks up on it before you do, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he knows what he’s sensing! But what he does know is that you smell delightful, and all he finds himself doing that night he first notices is rubbing against your shoulder and nuzzling into your neck. It’s easy to just laugh off his spontaneous cat-like affections, and even easier to succumb to the licking and nipping without much thought 😘

It’s rather late one night when he’s coming home, and while he always aware of each pulse that should normally be around, there’s definitely a new one… He probably thinks it’s a rat that got in the wall or something at first! Now on the hunt and prowling around, he’s a tad confused when he’s led to your sleeping form in the bed. Just as his nose never lies, neither does his hearing! He’s not dumb, he knew exactly what it meant as soon as he made it to the bed.

Eh, honestly he’s probably more surprised it hasn’t happened sooner 😅 He’s probably wildly inconsistent with protection, definitely has a breeding kink anyway, and has probably taken the condom off without you even noticing before… Even so, he still definitely didn’t plan it! Well- probably.

Still flopped over you with a big ol arm over your waist and nuzzling into your neck, he’s probably purring way more than you’ve ever heard him purr before. Enough to wake you up at 4 in the morning! You’ll have to lift his big ol head from your chest to get his attention, and he’ll just outright tell you! He’s one of the best trackers in the world, so there’s no reason to doubt him… that and it’s not every occasion that you’ll see him kneading happily at the blankets!

Ah- maybe he has done… questionable things, both when it comes to family and not-family… But, really, there's no need to worry! This hellcat is quite fond of kids, so while you may be a little anxious over the sudden news, Victor is unfazed enough for the both of you! Besides, he’s more than capable of keeping both you and a kid safe, and he’s had plenty of challenges in his 200+ years, surely he can handle raising a kid. Plus, he has a kid or two out there that he didn’t raise himself, so he’s probably pretty excited about this one ;3 But he does kinda hope he passes down his mutation…

The only downside as far as behavior goes is he’s now ultra protective and nosey (not that you could ever hide anything from him anyway), and now he’s dragging home tons of trinkets and jewelry and blankets and maybe even an entire turkey one time 😅

[zoe-oneesama]

What is your opinion of zoenette? Do you like the ship?

I'm not mad at it, but I'm not excited by it.

[tennessoui]

14 for obikin pretty please?

here you go!

[from this list of prompts]

[5. 'are you jealous' - 27. 'i'm pregnant' - 32. 'i think i'm in love with you and i'm terrified' (LATEST) 44. 'if you die, i'm gonna kill you' - 41. 'you did all of this for me?' - 46. 'hey, have you seen...? oh']

14. 'hey, i'm with you, okay? always.'

The first time Anakin visits, he's so angry that he cannot speak for the first two hours. Obi-Wan sits against the wall of his cell, on the floor even though the Jedi have provided him a perfectly comfortable bed and chair. The Force collar around his neck looks wrong. His master sitting on the floor, dressed in the dull orange of a prisoner's jumpsuit looks wrong.

Anakin is so angry that he can't speak. He can only look and tremble until he is told he must leave.

Obi-Wan does not speak either. He does not even look at him.

Maybe that's what makes his anger harder to bear. Anakin knows that Obi-Wan has met with countless other Jedi. Visitors, friends, allies, people who are working with him on his defense case. He knows that the other man talks to them, has sliced into security holo footage to see it for himself, though no one will tell him what is said. Everyone always leaves looking frustrated, but at least Obi-Wan talks to them.

But not Anakin. Even though it is Anakin that Obi-Wan has hurt the most. Anakin, who deserves to know why from Obi-Wan's mouth.

After all--

"He was like a father to me," Anakin spits at him on his second visit, only a few days later. Going to see Obi-Wan in the Coruscanti prison cell where he is awaiting trial is like an itch. Scratched once, Anakin finds he cannot help himself from digging his claws in.

Obi-Wan is still against the wall. His beard has grown slightly longer. His head is tilted back against the wall, though when Anakin speaks, his eyes slide down from the ceiling to rest on him.

"I'm starting to think you say that to all the boys," his former master who is a murderer says in that lilting familiar drawl.

"You killed him."

"Yes," Obi-Wan agrees, because apparently part of his defense case is not to plead not guilty to the murder of the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic. Anakin would say that may be problematic, but then--there are security holos, soundless and slightly blurred, of the event. Of Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi taking tea with Chancellor Palpatine. Talking in civil gestures for thirty minutes. Requesting, as far as anyone can tell, for the Chancellor to fetch him a pot of sugar. Lighting his saber and beheading him the moment the old man's back was turned. "Yes, I did."

"Why?" Anakin yells, voice cracking on the word. He doesn't understand. He thinks the not-knowing will drive him to madness. He thinks maybe it already has. It has been two weeks since the Chancellor's murder. Half the Senate is seeking Obi-Wan's execution.

The war, theoretically, has paused, like even the Separatists are holding their breath. Waiting. Wondering.

Obi-Wan looks at him quietly for a moment. For five. His face is stoic, resolved. Beloved, even after this.

Then--for a singular second--the mask cracks, and his master stares at him as if he needs to see him in order to survive. He looks hungry and exhausted and relieved, down to the bones.

"How have your nightmares been lately, padawan?" he asks him, and Anakin is so disgusted by the word--by the title that Obi-Wan doesn't get to say after killing the Chancellor, killing Anakin's friend--that he turns and leaves without another thought.

He is back a day later. He has never known how to keep his distance from things that can hurt him, that's what his mother always said. Too curious by half. Too sure of his own invincibility. That's what his master always said.

Anakin isn't sure of anything anymore.

"Why did you kill him?" Anakin asks. Obi-Wan's beard is longer. He is still on the floor. It rankles, the sight of him brought so low. "Did someone tell you to?"

Obi-Wan lets his head fall forward, a puppet with its strings cut. "Do you think me so biddable, Anakin?"

Anakin today. Not padawan. As if Obi-Wan has learned his lesson. As if he is as desperate for Anakin to linger in his presence as Anakin is hopelessly addicted to returning.

Padmé had tried to stop him this morning. Had tried to tell him it would do no good to see him, that the justice system would do its work, that Anakin was only hurting himself by returning over and over again. She pointed out that he had nightmares last night, for the first time since the news of the Chancellor's death reached them.

He hadn't had the heart to tell her that his nightmares were not about the Chancellor dying, but about Obi-Wan facing down an execution squad. About Anakin, standing on the deck of the Invisible Hand, Palpatine's voice in his ear, telling him to do it, do it. Cut off the traitor's head, only to look down and find that the two sabers he is holding are familiar to him, and person on his knees before him is his master.

Anakin had woken with a yell around one in the morning, sweat soaked and shaking. He hadn't been able to sleep again.

Maybe that's why he feels so alive now, slightly manic and still trembling as he paces in front of the Force barrier of Obi-Wan's cell. Did someone tell Obi-Wan to cut him down? he'd had the thought somewhere around five in the morning. Had it been someone Obi-Wan trusted? Someone he loved?

Who stood to gain from the death of the Chancellor? Who had the Chancellor ever hurt or threatened?

Anakin walks as close as he dares to get to the cell. "Master," he says, coaxes really, pushing forward until he can hear the hum of the force field.

Obi-Wan's head thumps back against the wall and he watches him from under his eyelashes.

"Master, I'm with you, alright? Hey, I'm with you, always, alright, always, so if someone told you, manipulated you, just tell me please. I'll find them. I'll get them to turn themselves in, master. Just tell me. Why did you kill him?"

Obi-Wan closes his eyes. He looks for all the world as if he is meditating, save for that collar around his neck. The prison garb. He doesn't look like a murderer, but he is. He is. He killed the Chancellor. He is going to face execution. Anakin is going to have to watch him die too and all he can think is that he knows that Obi-Wan doesn't even kriffing like sugar in his karking tea.

"Answer me!" Anakin yells, lifting his fist and forgetting himself for just long enough that he slams it against the barrier. He pulls it back with a curse as the force field short-circuits his mech arm and the prison alarm blares out a warning siren.

This time, he is led away from the cell by a Coruscanti guard. He is advised to not return for a standard week. The entire time he is exiled from the prison, the only thing he can think about is the expression on Obi-Wan's face as he watches him leave: eyes wide open and forehead wrinkled with concern, as if worried that Anakin had hurt himself.

The day after he is allowed to return, he does. He does not want to seem too eager or desperate, so he waits until it's early in the evening before pointing his speeder towards the prison unit.

"It had to have been someone you loved," Anakin announces as he stops in front of Obi-Wan's cell. He's in his bed this time, lying on his back and looking at the ceiling. He does not twitch at Anakin's voice, though Anakin can tell that he's not asleep, though his eyes are closed. He can tell just from the minute lines of tension he's holding in his shoulders, his neck.

How can Anakin know him so well and not know that he is capable of this? Of murder on this scale?

"Hm?" Obi-Wan finally says, when the silence drags on and it becomes clear that Anakin will not say more until he has engaged. Anakin watches this war play out in the subtle movements of Obi-Wan's facial muscles as well. He knows him so well. He knows him better than he knows anyone else in the galaxy.

"The person you killed him for. You had to have loved him more than anything else in the entire galaxy to kill a man the way you did. Defenseless. Over sugar. You don't--you don't even take sugar in your tea! It was a coward's way of killing--and it doesn't--you would never. Not unless it was for someone you loved."

Obi-Wan's eyes blink open, but he doesn't look away from the ceiling. He doesn't look at Anakin.

"I don't--I don't know what harm you think Sheev Palpatine could cause to anyone, but that has to be it. Nothing else makes sense. You loved someone enough to kill for them, and you killed the Chancellor."

The words come out easily. Anakin has practiced them for a week now; it is the only thing that makes sense. Nothing else makes sense. Nothing else but love could make a man like Obi-Wan do what he did. He must have loved someone a lot. He must love them more than the Republic. More than his own freedom.

The first time Anakin had told Padmé his theory, she'd looked at him for ages, until he'd grown angry and defensive. She'd touched his arm, as if that could hold back this hurricane brewing inside his chest, and said, "I don't know if you're right, Ani. I don't know if I think you're wrong either. It's just...you sound so...jealous."

At least Obi-Wan doesn't say the same thing. But what he does say may be even worse. Because he doesn't deny it. He doesn't protest. All he says is, "And who is it that you think I love more than anything else in the galaxy, padawan?"

Anakin has thought about this, too. "Bail Organa," he makes himself say, even though the name curls his lips up into a sneer. Bail Organa, the man who has been voted the interim Supreme Chancellor of the Republic. The man who has gotten everything from this assassination, while Anakin has had his everything taken away.

On his cot, Obi-Wan's eyes slide closed. His mouth quirks up. "Ah," he says, as if he has had something he has long expected to confirmed to him. He says nothing else.

It makes Anakin want to hit the barrier again. It makes him want to scream. It makes him want to be petty, hurt Obi-Wan back in the same way that Anakin feels hurt even though it doesn't make sense, none of this makes sense. But it feels as if Obi-Wan has kept half of himself secret from Anakin, a whole love, his entire capacity to love, and Anakin wants to prove that he has as well.

So he says, voice mean and sharp, "Padmé is pregnant. The med-droid says it is twins."

Everything else remains unspoken, but surely audible. That they are his. That he never stopped seeing Padmé. Perhaps even that she is his wife.

On the cot, behind the Force barrier, in his chains, Obi-Wan opens his eyes and blinks at the ceiling. His lips form a small smile, as he says, still not looking at Anakin, still not looking at Anakin, "I know, dear one. Why do you think the Chancellor had to die?"

[otrtbs]

oh there’s no way in hell i just saw a tiktoker make a .3 second video w the troppiest trope of all time saying “and no u can’t write this” some of yall are insecure AND insane and so so so out of touch

[jealousofmydreams]

mean!price who was a mercenary but gained the title of a baron when he aided the king during the war. with the lack of man power, the group of bandits were seen as saviors from the common people. therefore the king had no choice but to reward them, much to his dismay.

but price, who knew the ploys of powerful rich men, wanted more than a title which had no guarantee of safety for him and his men. he wanted a noble wife fron a distinguished lineage who will give him heirs and a name that will remain untouchable.

the king, having no daughters, procured the daughter of a marquis. much to the chagrin of the marquis who had to send his one and only daughter, renowned as the flower of spring, to a mercenary.

however, upon the wedding night, the veiled bride turned out to be the marquis hidden illegitimate child who bore no reassemble or sophistication of a noble woman.

instead, a scrawny woman who couldn't even hold her head up high was his bride. nothing like the infamous woman he was promised.

furious, price could not even retaliate as he was given the daughter of a marquis as promised, even if it was an illegitimate child.

price returned to the battlefield instead of residing with his new bride. leaving her to fend for herself in a castle where she held no true name. the servants and the maids paid her no mind.

she was a baroness in name only and remained a ghost within the foreign walls of her new home.

the years passed by until her husband finally returned, only in a coffin. a battle taking his life after playing with death for so many years.

however, on the day of his burial the once dead man came back to life, with only her name on his lips.

the hateful man who detested her so intensely clung to her as if she was his lifeline.

as she took care of him, a man who lost his memories but only she remained, she slowly realized the man who came back to her wasn't her husband, but a being that did not belong in this realm.

even so, she could not bear to let him go. the lonely girl craved the warmth that only he gave to her.

however, it wasn't long before the unknown entity and the soul of the dead man clashed and both vied for her affection.

(price making a deal with an unknown entity as he was on the verge of death, he wanted fame of his name. he gave his body so he could return and gain what was rightfully his, glory.

however, caged in his own body, his soul forced down to the deepest and darkness part of his being, price gained affection as he watched the play of romance between the entity wearing his face and the wife he neglected.

for once price desired something beyond greatness, but what was once rightfully his, was given away by his own hands, to the beast who refused to give it back)

[yandere-daydreams]

Dick grayson?! Please i'm gonna need some hc or something else like that about how you see dick grayson in general and as a yandere because i love your vision!

Also i know you're writing for him before when darling was trying to escape Bruce and get shoot by Jason and i wanted to know if there was a difference between the way you depicted Dick (and Jason) there and on your other fic "fawn's instinct"/"tickling"?

my opinions are dick are very,,, i do NOT want people to think i hate him, but i will pounce on any opportunity to talk about how much of a freak he is. no one escapes being bruce's test-run kid, an eldest sister, and growing up in a literal circus without some weird kinks to show for it. it's simply in his dna i fear.

as a yandere, i think he'd have a pretty base-line protective instinct (more than steph or tim but not nearly as much as jason or cas) with a terminal case of 'if i'm not your favorite guy i'll die about it' disease. he's never known how to exist if he's not the sole focus of someone's attention, and unadulterated adoration is hard to come by when you're one of an ever-growing gaggle of young adults moonlighting as a masked vigilante. he's not the type to be selfish on the field, but he can be selfish with you - locked away safe n' sound, so fragile and so scared, so willing to tell him he's your favorite hero as many times as he asks so long as he promises he'll never let anyone else hurt you. he'd prefer if you were obsessed with him organically, sure, if you felt the desire to crawl under his skin just as strongly as he felt the desire to crawl under yours, but this works, too. he's the golden boy, after all, bruce's longest and best trained disciple.

nothing he could do to you could really be all that bad, right?